Regis

The smell of herbs and chemicals blankets the room. The room itself is dark, small and dusty. There are notes covering almost every surface. Some of the pages rustle as a breeze makes its way through the only open window in the room. A raven croaks as it flies through the window and alights on a cluttered desk. “Welcome back, dear friend,” the silhouette of a dragon breaks from the darkness. The raven hops forward to rub its beak against the dragon’s fur warmly. Regis turns swiftly and allows his nimble claws to snatch a vial from the desk as he passes it on his way to the cauldron that sits in the middle of the room. Only a few more ingredients and the potion would be done.

The skydancer had come to the clan seeking refuge for his unique condition. Well, it was more dangerous than unique, he thought. There were others in the clan like him after all; other vampires in this lair below the sand. His time here hadn’t been long but nevertheless, his clanmates made him feel welcome, despite the misfortune that had brought him to them.

---

Regis couldn’t remember the last time he had had to run so fast. He supposed it was his own fault though, going into a village that was being crippled by disease and leaving unscathed was bound to raise suspicions. When the villagers found out what he was they had wasted no time in gathering up their torches and pitchforks and chasing him down. Flying would only allow them to find him faster since there were no trees to cover his getaway. He only hoped that the landscape would slow down his pursuers enough for him to find a safe place to conceal himself in. So here he was, crashing through the shrubs that grew along the cliffside, the salty ocean air burning his lungs with each heaving breath.
He nearly threw himself straight into the water when he turned a corner too fast but he skidded to a stop in a heap on the ground instead. Ocean spray drenched the poor dragon as a wave came crashing up against the side of the cliff. As soon as his feet were under him his fur began to stand on end. There was a presence somewhere near him, the presence of something dangerous.

“You’ve come too close for comfort, stranger. And look you’ve brought a rioting army behind you. Tell me why I should let you stand on the border to my lands.” Dread settled into Regis’ bones when he heard that. Despite his ability to see in the dark he couldn’t seem to pinpoint where the voice was coming from. After looking back over his shoulder at the torches that lit the horizon Regis decided to take a risk, “I mean no harm to you or your clan, I’m not what they think me to be. Please, just allow me to hide here for the night. I have knowledge that you may find useful,” his begging gained an edge of desperation when shouting reached his ears. A pause fell over them, it felt so long that Regis was about ready to give up hope and start running again when the voice cut through the darkness.
“Fine, don’t make me regret my choice.” Just a few feet in front of him a pair of eyes opened in the darkness. A pair of amber eyes that blazed brighter than any of the torches threatening to burn his hide.

---

That night had turned into day and that day had turned into a week and soon the skydancer found himself a permanent resident of the sand-covered kingdom. The wildclaw that had confronted him was the leader of the clan as it turns out, a serious individual by the name of Ezra. Regis sighs at the memory and throws the vial of blood into the brew.