Wraith

“Of course, father.”

For all his life, his mother and father had controlled most aspects of it. Nightmare and Spectra demanded much of his attention all day, every day. Whether it was Nightmare sparring with him and teaching him how to use a blade or Spectra drilling into him the values that they valued above all else --be loyal to the clan, be unafraid, be commanding-- didn’t matter; Wraith still spent so much time around his family. Surprisingly, Wraith spent less time with his sister Mirage, ignoring the idea that siblings tended to come together due to their shared experiences.

Maybe his parents aren’t always most affectionate, but there is still love in both Nightmare and Spectra for their son. Wraith’s father would always prefer his son over his daughter, the two more often seen together sparring rather than simply having a father-son bonding experience that was more typical, like, say, exploring the ruins of an ancient temple, or hunting for dinner. Nightmare is often so complacent for his son that it could be considered him spoiling Wraith, something both father and son deny.

Although it is clear Nightmare loves Wraith, he rarely ever goes easy on his son. All within the family knew better than to let love make you weak. His father would often teach Wraith of things considered horrendous by the average dragon; murder, torture, arson, just about the worst things anyone could think of. His father taught him about physical pain. The sting of a blade, the burn of fire, the crushing feeling of drowning. Nightmare was tough to the point it could be questioned whether he truly cared about his son, but the truth was undeniable--his training in itself was a form of care.

Yes, the “training” was always painful and even torturous at times, but it came with good. It honed Wraith’s reflexes, made him stronger. He knew what to do immediately in any situation as long as it required something physical. Sometimes, when Wraith was younger, the Imperial considered running away to some soft clan that would greet him coos and smiles. Every time, he’d shake his head and scowl, knowing that such thoughts meant he was simply too weak. And, if there was anything Wraith hated more than his father’s training, it was being weak.

Of course, Spectra had her form of training as well. It was less physical, though, and more on how cunning and persuasive he could be. While Wraith’s sister learned how to steal and lie, he learned how to convince others to do as he pleased. He had to be charming, confident and savvy, something not quite one of his strong suits. Perhaps it is why he prefers his father more, though it may also be because Spectra seems to care more about Mirage than she does Wraith. He’s not bothered by this though, because a similar situation could be said for Nightmare; he cares more about Wraith than he does Mirage.

Wraith was, at best, always tolerant of his sister. She would always deny his attempts to have a sparring match, which would turn into a verbal fight rather than a physical fight. The two would have their spats, but they’d always begrudgingly make up. Despite being blood, they were too different from each other to truly get along. The two siblings were the perfect crime-committing duo, but they seemed to despise each other. Or, at least, Wraith did.

Sometimes, Wraith tends to wonder what it would be like if his family were more… Normal, as one could say. To not have bloodthirsty parents that could kill without batting an eye. To have a sister that doesn’t murder him only for the fact that the two have saved each others’ lives more times than either of them can count. To garden, to write, to dance, to laugh, to love. What it would be like to actually live.

The thought disgusts him.

Oh, nothing can scare the hardened Imperial. Not anymore. There is nothing neither Spectra nor Nightmare could come up with to bring forth the slightest ounce of fear within Wraith. Nothing his sister could threaten to do to cause him to cower with fear. Oh, truly nothing can scare Wraith. Nothing that he can admit to, at least.

Maybe he fears failure. Maybe he fears disappointment. Maybe, just maybe, he’d like to be regarded as something more than the product of their blood mixing when his parents look at him. Maybe, deep down, he’d like to lead a normal life, with the most blood coming from him biting into the body of his meaty meal. Maybe, maybe, maybe. He’d never admit it, though. Not while his parents continue to preach about killing, lies, and loyalty to them and them only. Not while Mirage continues to scowl at him, her murderous intent just barely hidden.

Oh, well. Wraith can settle for what he has.

Lore by Neraida

Art by Annoyed

Art by mosaicdragon