Zerah
(#62799774)
The smallest threads can change the weave of fate's design.
Dejan
Juvenile Starsweeper
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 48/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Male Imperial
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
29 m
Wingspan
22.63 m
Weight
6916.57 kg
Genetics
Rose
Iridescent
Iridescent
Pink
Bee
Bee
Marigold
Stained
Stained
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Imperial
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
Zerah
born Philia
The Shaded Scholar of The Archives
A Tale of Growing Shade
I stare at the small, thin shell of a Light Egg before me, my eyes wide. I’d already called on Mercury, my dearest friend and fellow thief, but she was still looking for some sign of a nest. Surely there’s a mother out there looking for this! Unless it was kidnapped by some of the Beastclan. I know many things are hidden in the Shadows. It’s what us thieves are raised in, after all. It’s our home. However, it doesn’t mean we tend to like it when we find a Talona or a Serthis pack stealing eggs.
We’re close to the border of the two flights, the light barely stretching to the murky darkness within. We’d been heading to our home in the Foxfire Bramble, a small bag of treasures in tow. We’re Fae, after all. A tad too small to actually carry an entire hoard away. It doesn’t stop us from slowly draining it, piece by shiny piece. My bag of spoils, mostly golden goblets and tupperware, lay hidden under a bush, temporarily abandoned for this brighter prize.
On one talon, eggs like this sell for a lot. I know that was Mercury’s first thought. She’s the expert when it comes to value and what we can manage. However, she was also the one to suggest finding a nest. Perhaps it was abandoned. Perhaps not. Either way, if there’s a mother, there’s an angry dragon chasing us if we take the egg. On the other wing… this is a dragon. One of us. Sure, the egg is quite large, so not likely a Fae, but this is an elemental egg. This is a child of the Lightweaver, or at least blessed by her touch, as the Gaolers would put it. We steal baubles and trinkets, not hatchlings! We won’t stoop to the level of the local beastclan!
As I check over the shell for breaks or scratches, Mercury returns, her own satchel held close to her chest. I can see the drooped frills, and I know something’s wrong. Even her ears are swiveling about, her eyes taking in every detail around us. I expect her to say she found a mother. Perhaps there could be a bounty for the missing egg? A reward? There usually is, and I tend to be the one to remind her of that most often. I don’t, however, expect the words to escape her maw, her wings drawn in.
“Skirmish. Beastclan. There was an altar. Talonok against centaur, from the looks of it. Lots of stolen eggs from Light and Shadow… broken. Talonok in origin. I think the centaur tried to destroy it.”
Altars like that aren’t exactly rare here in the Tangled Wood. What better place to hide dark rites than in the shadows, after all? But one raided by the centaur? That’s definitely rare. It isn’t often any drake finds a place they wish to target. Most centaurs tend to only strike if another beastclan struck at their own herds. These Talonok must’ve been pretty big if they caught their attention. I’m about to ask more when Mercury simply holds up a few pieces of shell. So, there’s the proof.
Slowly, I draw the egg closer to me, my frills raising as I look at the little light inside. It takes me a few moments to pull my thoughts together, and I can see Mercury frowning at me as I finish my inspection. Not a scratch on the shell. Not one. This egg had been untouched by the Beastclan skirmish. This hatchling stood a chance. They just needed a home. I look over to Mercury, tilting my head.
“...We could keep them. Shell’s not damaged. No nests in sight. No ransoms or bounties. And we have the room.”
Mercury begins to argue the point, but I continue to counter her. Yes, we’re packed at the moment, but some drakes are leaving for higher places. Yes, it’s odd, but a hatchling is a hatchling. I know there’s Wildclaw tracks, but this egg is clearly not a Wildclaw egg, and we should know how many travel through the Tangled Wood to reach the Scarred Waste. The altar? Yes, it’s obviously meant for darker means, but come on. We live with drakes who’re insane already. We’re arguably the most sane drakes among us Shadow Flight Wanderers. We can help bring this little one up.
Finally, those frills lower, my fellow thief falling silent as she looks at the egg. She’s thinking things through as she gently taps a claw on the shell. She freezes when she feels a gentle tap back. We both look down, tapping the shell, and sure enough, we get taps back. I can see the change in those bright red eyes as Mercury finally nods decisively, backing off.
“Fine. We’ll bring it back to the other Shadowrunners. I think some drakes there have been wanting to raise a hatchling for a bit. We could take in a small drake, not something like a Guardian. You carry the egg, Murasakino.”
I can’t protest that. We don’t know how to raise drakes. We know how to steal. It’s a part of the job description. I take up the egg, motioning to my satchel so Mercury can take my haul back with us. Perhaps someone else can help with this new addition? Well, if they accept them. As we fly off to our home, I swear I can see the light growing brighter within the shell. It feels almost as if someone is staring back at me. I sort of hope the hatchling inside really is looking at me.
I don’t notice the Wildclaw in the underbrush watching us take their delivery away, a faint smile on their face. This egg had found a good home. They knew it, as do we.
The Beast, and Naomi, will live on through us, even if we don’t know it.
I stare at the little Imperial before me, his pale yellow eyes locked with my own icy gaze. Normally, our kind don’t get along. Imperials and Pearlcatchers? Absurd. But this one is different. This one shares a bond with me. I can sense it, deep within him.
Currently, he isn’t much. A tiny beast, wrapped up in my cape like he’s trying to mimic me. I’m not surprised. My mate and I were the ones to take him in, after all. So many drakes were chased away when we spoke of our interest for the hatchling inside. They know we aren’t exactly the same as the rest of them. We don’t sing musings to the shadows, or write prose to the moon. We don’t celebrate the faint lights in the sky. Yes, we embrace the shadows that envelop us, just as they do. But we also speak of the void those stars rest in, the shadows which allure weaker drakes into the Tangled Wood, never to return. We acknowledge we live in the shadows, but our praise goes to it as well. Every light needs a shadow, every shadow a light.
My mate, Shaye, darts into our den as the hatchling rolls onto his side with a little squeak, taking my cloak with him. Sometimes I swear she shows more affection to the child than me. I don’t voice my concerns, however. It isn’t my place. Not with my mate. She swoops in, her little frills practically dancing as she sets aside her wood mask, woven of the same brambles as her mantle. The little one seems to understand her better when he can see her face. No surprise there, honestly. She doesn’t speak, but her movements get the gist of it to the Imperial. The cloak is mine, not his. ‘This is Nightingale’s cloak.’ It’s stained from my work, and dangerous. The little one simply sticks out his tongue at her, as if to say ‘Not to me!’ Normally, he’d be wrong.
However, he isn’t normal.
I’ve seen him as he interacts with our fellow Wanderers. He goes to the Shadowrunners, and leaves with whatever he wishes. I marvel at how he shares that silver tongue with me, despite not being my own child. Well, not by birth, at least. Despite not saying much, he still manages to win the hearts of others. Even the Beacons of Courage, the Wildclaws guarding the more feeble or dangerous drakes of our home, smile when they run into him. Perhaps it’s the charm of a hatchling charm to them. I see the truth, however. I know what he can do, what he will do.
Finally, I step in, lowering my head as I gently nudge the child away. I can see Shaye is about to give in, to let him keep the cloak. I gently remove the soft silks off of that pink hide, using a talon to nudge him aside. He isn’t happy about it. I can feel it in the shadows that roil in my veins. The shadows beneath his scales are practically screeching at me, at the very souls I hold within my own frame. For them to clash, even in such a small way, is unheard of to them. But clash they do. We serve the same thing, control it, but we do so in different ways.
The murk staining my claws leaves a faint smudge on the child’s cheek, yet unlike most others, it doesn’t burn or sizzle. His scales don’t morph at my touch. No, where I have skill, he has raw power. Perhaps it’s some form of stubbornness from another line. Perhaps it’s the blessing of our great grandmother. It doesn’t matter to me. What matters is that I need my cloak back, and this child isn’t happy that I won’t fall for his charm.
As he lets out a little scree, his eyes glittering as he voices his dissent, I turn to an alcove beside me. He may not be able to have my cloak, but he can have something better. His eyes light up as a vintage silk shawl is pulled from the alcove. It took me a while to wash out the muck from the previous owner, but with the help of Shaye, I managed to make it look as good as new. I pass it over to the hatchling, who quickly wraps himself up in the star silks. It suits him, in a fashion, blending into his scales. He beams up at me with those little pointed teeth, and I cannot help but chuckle.
“There you are. I have my cloak, and now you have something to call your own. Wear it with pride.”
He nods his head, and is soon racing off to his little nest of baubles and trinkets. Shaye looks at me, silent, but I can see the shock in her eyes. She’d realized how close she’d come to caving to our adoptive son’s demands, and it frightened her. I use a wing to pull her close, the vials at her sides clicking as I do.
“Do not worry, my dear. His allure is strong. I’m not surprised you almost followed his will.”
The shrill cry of joy from the nest seems to accentuate my point as I guide her to her own bed for the night. Her fins flicker to me. I know what she’s asking. Can he be stopped? Can we contain this? I dip my head in answer. We can. We must. We are older than him. Much older. We know how to bend the rules of the world to our will, be it through our voices or our actions. We heard our ancestor’s calling, and we heeded it at every step. This hatchling is no different.
“He will grow, and he will learn. We were chosen to be his first mentors. Let us not waste this opportunity to teach him how the right words, and with it the right voice, can bring the world to its knees before you. All this, and none shall bat an eye, for in their minds, nothing is wrong. We will teach him how to make the world his own, just as we have.”
She smiles at me, nodding her head. We will teach young Zerah the finer things. The subtleties. That is our mission. May others help him harness the beast within.
I stare at the adolescent dragon, his pearly scales shimmering in the light of the glowing shrooms around us. We’re in a clearing within the Foxfire Bramble where the Beacons usually train. They were quick to leave us be when my brother, Theron, approached with Zerah. They knew the hatchling had begun to attract odd creatures within the Tangled Wood. He’d become a magnet for the strange, bizarre, and even paranormal, and these things were good at sneaking past the Wildclaws who protected them.
The little Imperial has his wings flared, head tilted. He’s gotten used to saying little things to try and distract me. Sometimes I wonder who tells him all of that. Other times, I know. It’s the same voice talking to me, albeit fainter than what the Imperial must be hearing. I’m perched atop Theron’s head, my frills flat. He needs to learn how to fight, and we’re going to teach him.
He lunges for my brother, trying to swipe at his legs. Theron simply lifts a claw and catches him, shoving him away. The long talons of a Ridgeback can certainly come in handy. Zerah growls at us, and I simply shake my head. He tries a few more times before beginning to circle my brother, ears folded back. As I watch, I swear the drake looks like a little winter wolf, tail twitching and teeth bared. If he hadn’t walked in with silks draped over his shoulders, I could believe it. The young drake finally speaks up.
“Why aren’t you attacking me? Why make me strike first? Shouldn’t you come to me?”:
The words are innocent enough, but the challenge is there. My faceted eyes gleam as I simply tap my brother’s forehead. He wants a challenge? He’ll get a challenge. Best to learn how to defend himself now. Theron lunges, using his weight to overpower the smaller drake. He may be bigger when he’s older, but he’s young now. Easy to fight. Long talons meet bared teeth and pointed antlers as Zerah claws and bites, shielding his underside from the fray. He uses his wings to try and buffet my brother off, but my guidance does plenty. Then a claw rakes over one of my brother’s many eyes, and he lurches away with a hiss.
I look over the two, and I pause when I see it. There is a gash on the Imperial’s eye to match the claws on Theron’s flanks. Unlike my brother, however, what bleeds from those veins isn’t the scarlet we know. We’re further down the line than the Imperial. We’d only heard of the ichor the descendants can bleed when they share such close ties to our ancestor, Naomi. However, we never thought we’d see it ourselves as Zerah gives us a triumphant smile.
“Look, Xenophon! I did it! I got him!”
Once again, I cannot help but see the beast within the young drake. Yes, the Shade is most definitely present. Of that, there is no doubt. It likely told the young Imperial where to strike my brother. However, while his blood sings of our ancestor, his eyes… they do resemble a beast. I just cannot find the name for it, even if I can practically feel their name on the tip of my tongue. Finally, I nod my head.
“That you did, but he also got you.”
I can see his spirits fall, and I do not blame him for it. He did well for a first try, after all. However, if he is to hide the Shade within, especially against those pale cloudy scales, he must not be struck. Not even once. It’s why we cleared the clearing of the Beacons before our little skirmish. If they saw how thick the shadows ran within this child of Light, they’d be ready to send him off as if he were the Undead Beast they chase back into the Scarred Waste every nightfall. I take off, landing on a nearby branch as the two larger drakes look up at me.
“Now, let’s try that again. And this time, look for other weaknesses in Theron. His eyes are a given, but every creature has something to hide. Find it for yourself, and strike it with all your might before he can strike you first.”
With that, the young drake rushes in, ducking and dodging blows and claws as he tries to find my brother’s weakness. It will be difficult for him to find, but I know he’ll find it eventually. He must learn the subtleties of a battle so he may leave without being scathed.
He must learn that some weaknesses are not of the body, but of the soul.
As I wait for the hatchling to realize Theron’s weakness is perched in the treetop, watching him as he scraps with the Ridgeback, I cannot help but feel as though I’m teaching a dog how to fight. No, not a dog. A lion? Perhaps some might Roc? No, none quite fit. Finally, it dawns on me as I watch my brother take more scratches than the young drake with every lunge. I’m not watching a young dragon fight for his life.
I’m watching a beast learn how to strike better than any drake ever could.
Something tells me there is more to this young one than our dearest Naomi, and I find myself fearful as the day grows long. When he finally pins me down, stopping my brother, I cannot help the fear causing my frills to raise. Yes, this is right. In the fading light, those pale scales turn to shadow, and I only see the glittering eyes of a beast above me.
May Naomi’s power stave the beast within this hatchling, before it consumes us all.
I stare at the dragon before me, his pale starsilks shimmering as he meets my gaze. He believes he can best me somehow. He believes he knows how to trump me, that he knows everything. He can’t be further from the truth. I’ve been alive for quite some time. I’ve seen things most dragons haven’t even dreamed of. I watched as the Gaolers struck down the last of the Banescales in their little war. I watched the first children of the deities walk the lands their mothers and fathers molded. I watched the pillar fall all those centuries ago. However, few know of that.
Zerah is trying to figure me out. Unlike the drakes around him, his honeyed words don’t phase me. Why would they, when I know the Shade so well? I’d helped to oust it so long ago. I even helped some of the Gaolers seal it away in their icy prisons. I changed my breed when the others began to rise up, from the mighty Imperials to the diminutive Fae. I wasn’t alone back then, and was certainly not the only one to change. Zerah doesn’t know that. To him, I’m just a Coatl with the eyes of the Gladekeeper, suspicious of an Imperial with high regard among the Shadowflight Wanderers. The Shadowrunners and the Beacons alike seem to adore him, so why shouldn’t I? Why should I be wary of him when other Wanderers take to him like flies to honey? I’m an enigma, and he doesn’t like it.
I stare at him, still quiet as he stares back. Every question I had for him had an answer, calculated and, at least to me, scripted. He was abandoned. He was found on the border of Light and Shadow. Who knows what things the Talonok had done to his own growth, his body, simply with their own power over his egg? The scar over his eye was just darker than most, is all. He’s done well for these drakes, bringing peace to them when neighboring clans began to bicker about the creatures drawn to their lands. He soothed worries, quelled quarrels, and even seemed to drive off the beasts that roamed the shadows. Surely the monsters aren’t his fault.
I know better.
I’ve met the children of Naomi, her descendants, countless times. Some were better with their words. Others, their strength. Rarely, both would suffice. However, this Imperial is different. Yes, he is both strong and charming. However, I know the look in those eyes. I’d seen it before, alongside Israfel so long ago. He’d almost passed to her claws, after all. Those eyes mirror another ancestor of this Imperial, perhaps as close to him as Naomi herself. Those eyes are the eyes of the Beast. His strength comes from her. Such a combination is much more dangerous than even the descendants of Naomi who raised him.
I cannot allow him to continue to twist the drakes within the Foxfire Bramble.
Zerah needs someone to watch over him, to keep him out of trouble. To rein in the Shade within, and the Beast within his veins. He needs a match, a counter. I know I can do so, at least for a time. However, I cannot watch him forever. That’s why I carefully pick my words, thinking my decision through. The Beast will want him to wreak havoc on those around him. Naomi? She’d want a following. Her call would be just as honeyed to him as he is to the drakes around him. He cannot have it here, not fully. Here, he has competition with his Naomi kin. He needs to move, and I know a place he cannot pass up.
“... One of us needs to talk at some point, dear. So I’ll be frank with you.”
He seems surprised when I’m the first to speak. Perhaps he expected me to remain as silent as him, mulling over my words until they lose their meaning. It’s a tactic I know well, and one I won’t fall for. He also seems surprised by the words I chose. Did he catch a bit on the word dear? Perhaps he’s familiar with it. I swore I heard that Nightingale use it a lot when I arrived. Tarnishing it, in my opinion, but I won’t dwell on that. I fold my talons neatly over each other, my feathered crest as still as I can keep it. I can only hope this will work.
“I know what you are, Zerah. I know the signs. You hear those whispers in your ear, conflicting as they may be. Some practically sing of drakes bowing to you, the world at your clawtips. Others screech for you to take it by force, to ignore the others and show them the beast you are.”
He seems shocked by my words, but is quick to pull over an icy calm. Just like the father who took him in. This one could learn, at least. I raise a claw to silence him, and he frowns as I look him in the eyes.
“Hush, dear. I’m not here to hurt you. Far from it, in fact.”
Well, that suspicion wasn’t nearly as well-hidden now. He slowly closes his maw, eyes glittering as he eyes me up. I’m a talker when I can afford to be. I wait for him to be done with his little examination, my tail tip twitching faintly as I eye him up as well. He likely knows I can fight. I’m not that much of an enigma. I can fight, and hold my own. He just doesn’t know all I can do. Finally, he settles a bit, and I feel my feathers falling flat as he nods his head.
“Well? Speak, Coatl. If you aren’t here to hurt me, despite knowing all that, what are you here for? Why are you talking to me? Why not Nightingale, or the other children of Naomi? Surely they hear the same as I, with what we all are. Do they not hear that conflict as well?”
So, he knows about one, but not the other? That is an interesting twist, certainly one I didn’t expect. I frown at him, my brow furrowing. I cannot help it. It’s troubling he is so strong, so acclimated to his power, without even knowing half of its origins.
“Actually, dear, no. They don’t hear it. They hear the sweetened voice of Naomi, of the Shade she contained. They only hear the voices whispering of power. The other is another force entirely, one they do not share with you.”
He seems surprised at my words once again. I know how to shock others. I tend to pick up on things few know they’re revealing, after all. If I am to keep secrets, I must hear of them. He tilts his head at me, and I see the interest in his eyes. He knows that I know more. I’ve turned from a threat to an asset, and he wants to hear more. I must tread lightly now.
“I could say more, dear, but I believe you know as well as I how bad it would be for someone to overhear. Even if they are your kin.”
That causes him to lean back. Oh, he understands that. The drakes who taught him to fight, the ones who raised him, all would relish the news of a new power. Something that might be a weakness in him? They’d exploit it. Letting them hear of this other bloodline would be disastrous. He nods his head to me, then waits. He seems to be waiting for me to give a solution. I know only the best would do for him. Now, to sell my plan as ideal to him. To turn it into an asset. I peer at him through my spectacles, calm.
“Knowing that… do you not need a change of scenery, dear? Someplace… far from the shadows? Appreciate it at a distance, so to speak. Like, for example… an observatory?”
I can see the spark in his eyes when I say that. He knows the Observatory. He knows the land of the Arcanist, and how it houses his ancestor Naomi. There, his power would be heightened. If he could gain a following there… it was a dream come true for any descendant of the one who broke the world we live in. He isn’t foolish, however. He hesitates, frowning at me.
“... It is a wonderful offer, if that is indeed what you’re doing, but you know what I am. I can tell you would normally be fighting me tooth and claw. There is a catch, is there not?”
He is smart. I’m quiet as I contemplate my words. I feel as though this may be as great as when I told the leaders of the Plagueflight Wanderers who aided in the attack on their home of my own little group. This could change the course of history, at least for us. Whether it will turn for the better, I do not know. But I know it must be better than leaving Zerah unchecked with the Shadowrunners. Finally, I nod my head.
“... You’ll live with those of us in the Observatory. Specifically, you’ll live with the Arches. Yes, some of us are like myself, and won’t be swayed by your tongue, but others have already been touched by the very Shade in your veins. On top of that, dragons come and go with us, to the point where we stand as mentors. Play your cards right, dear, and you’ll have a following of your own.”
He seemed confused for a moment, tilting his head. Wouldn’t I stop him? Wouldn’t the others like me stop him? What about the ones with the Shade? Would they try to use him? I keep my calm smile, doing my best to still my tail as I watch him mull it over. He finally asks his questions and I answer in kind. Yes, those like myself would do our best to keep him from going too far, but we also have to deal with others like him. Some have their own agendas, and neither party are a united front. They can try to use him, but he has more than the Shade in him. Surely he can see through their plotting? Is his self-confidence so shot that he can’t handle a few Shade-touched drakes? He can have his following, be in the Observatory itself, and even learn about the other side of his bloodline. Finally, he falls silent. I can practically feel the tension in the air as I tilt my head slightly, eyeing the drake. Has it worked?
“Well, dear? Will you move in with us? Or will you stay?”
I smile when I see the light in those eyes. The call of Naomi had won, despite the wariness of the Beast within. He nods his head to me, standing up once more. He’ll be moving in with us. He leaves to gather his belongings as I pull myself together, looking down at my claws as I finally relax. There’s a shiver to my feathers that I haven’t felt for a long time. The last I’d felt it was when I saw the pillar shatter all those years ago, when the stars winked out above me.
“...We have a long road ahead of us… I hope we’ll see the light on the other side.”
I stretch my pale wings as I watch over my followers, all sitting before me with wide eyes and rapt attention. I can see colors of all flights here, from the far reaches of the Ashfall Waste to the bright greens of the Viridian Labyrinth itself. It doesn’t surprise me. You don’t need to be a child of the Arcanist to be drawn to magic. Each flight has it, to an extent. Many are scribbling in books, while others are watching me as I lecture. I have been told I’m a decent teacher, and I take pride in it.
Some of the drakes before me wear armor on their forms, waiting for me to turn from practical magic to combat. I try to cover both when I teach, presenting a new lesson each day. Others have the frames of scholars, hoping to find innovative ways to trump their more physically inclined classmates. Some are just here because my voice sounds better to them than that Razael Coatl who picked me up from the Tangled Wood. There is one thing they have in common with each other, however.
Each drake wears feathers, be they black or white, but never something in between. From jabots to tail feathers, but the most common are the wings. It’s something every drake among these particular Wanderers wear, a mark of alignment so to speak. These drakes are divided, and have been for quite some time. It would be less likely to find someone free of at least one feather wandering the halls. Even I wear them, though I seem to break the mold.
I ruffle my wings, showing the black and white feathering I bear. Cloudy white feathers stick out from the black feathered wings like a Magpie as I settle the class. They know what the spread wings mean. Quiet. Settle. I have more to say. I smile at how easily they fall into a silent stupor, waiting for my words. I smoothly transition to the next topic, offensive magic. Using crystal formation to trap an opponent’s claws before striking with your own. Muzzling them by turning the air around them to the floating stones around the Observatory. The particles are thick enough here to manage that, stopping their teeth from breaking skin or their claws from ripping wings. I even turn to draining the magic within a drake, taking it and repurposing it for an affront on them while they’re left reeling. An advanced tactic, but useful if mastered.
I take pause when I spot the Coatl in the doorway, his green eyes boring into me as he frowns at me. That pale feathered crest is bristling softly, a warning. I cannot go too far. He caught me. I carefully pull back on my voice, removing the honeyed tint with each new phrase. However, I’m sly. I know what I’m doing. I make sure my eyes are locked on the Coatl, letting my followers turn to see what has distracted me of their lesson. Finally, I set down my book, lowering my head.
“I believe Razael wishes to have a word with me. The lesson is over for now."
The students are quite vocal about their dissent for the Coatl as they pack their things, cramming notes into satchels and coaxing familiars that could easily attend the lesson towards the door. He knows what I did, and is scowling at me with a rather sour look as I do my best to hide a smile. Perhaps he’ll hesitate to interrupt a lecture next time because of it.
“I want to see improvement on those formulas when we meet next week! Perhaps then we can put some of those spells into action!”
That brightens their spirits. Of course they want to practice. Some wish to make simple things, like inks that will never fade or fabrics that will never fray. Others… They follow me closely. They wish to sharpen their claws, their bodies, and their minds. Oh, how little do they know of what I do. They believe they are being honed for themselves by a lesson of light, of truth. How ironic that I instead hone them with the honing edge of the very Shade drakes fear.
As the lecture hall empties, Razael walks in, that sour scowl still on his face. It seems he doesn’t like being bested by me. Well, the feeling is definitely mutual. I like being able to have some control, and this Coatl is far out of my reach. He’s akin to a mule. I’ll push him one way, and he goes the other. Then, to toy with me, when I push him one way with plans for him to go the other, he goes where I push! The nerve of that feathered serpent! As I set my books aside, still bearing my star silks, the Coatl finally speaks.
“Enfeebling a foe is one thing, Zerah. Taking their magic permanently is another.”
I sigh, shaking my head as I walk away from my podium, my wings folded in tightly. Here he goes. Another talk on controlling the Shade, on the Beast, on what’s right and wrong. Sometimes I wonder if he forgets I’m not exactly on his side. Those stark white feathers should say enough compared to the black I wear. Well, mostly. I stop him before he can continue his rambling.
“Of course I understand that. And I know what you’re going to say. Do what you feel you must, I’ll still try to teach them.”
That causes the scowl to return. Of course. Enfeebling others through stealing magic is a slippery slope. If you can take it, you can study it. Learn enough, and you can mimic it. Soon enough, you have drakes using slivers of their own magic to convince other drakes that their very instincts are saying something is safe when it isn’t, or dangerous when it means no harm. Sure, it can be a funny prank. I’ve pulled it once on a customer of the flower shop in the little shopping district down below. However, believing your newly hatched son is dangerous is different than believing a vanilla stalk can kill. Morally, they’re vastly different. Practically? They’re not so different as one might hope. Pull the right strings, and one could even believe their very body is foreign, and must be destroyed. The smallest of threads can certainly be the most dangerous.
Razael huffs out that little trill of his, that crest flaring as he shakes his head. He’s trying to calm himself. I didn’t notice it when I was younger, but now I can see that twitching tail. He has his tells, even if he doesn’t know all of them. He furrows his brow at me, as if trying to see through me. Finally, he speaks.
“So. Manipulation. I could see you trying to use it on them, but… why teach them? It’ll only make it where they can counter you as soon as your magic begins to flare.”
He doesn’t see my plans, and it makes me smile. He knows I have plans. I don’t need to hide that. However, I won’t tell him what they are. Not on my life. I remain silent on the matter as I finish putting up some loose scrolls and books left behind, turning away from the Coatl. He waits for an answer, just a bit longer, before finally sighing. I expect him to leave in a fit. He hates it when he can’t figure something out. He hoards secrets like an Akirbeak hoards eggs, after all. To have one so close to him, yet just out of his grasp, must be infuriating. I’m basking in that frustration I just know he’s feeling when he finally speaks, though it isn’t what I expect.
“... You’re softer than you think, Zerah dear.”
My feathers ruffle at that gentle tone, my ears falling back. Soft? Me? No, I’m far from it! If anyone is gentle, it’s that Coatl! He could be using his secrets to control so many of his fellow Arches within the Observatory! He has knowledge on them that they haven’t even shared with their own flesh and blood! He could rule this Observatory, and yet he gives lessons on caring for avian familiars, writing stories, and baking confectioneries! He even has a shop! He is the soft one, not me! I’m about to say as such when he speaks up again, sounding tired.
“Dear, I can debate with you on it all day, and you still wouldn’t change my mind. I know what you’re capable of. I saw the Shadowrunners while you were in their care. Many were practically mindless zombies by the time I arrived. I’m surprised the students here aren’t the same.”
I have my reasons! However, I know that stubborn look. He won’t listen. I know it. He’s dead set on me being soft for my own students. I huff after a moment, turning away from him again as I finally take the herb garland and drape them over my wings. Just a remnant of my mother, Shaye, really. She made herbal “remedies” for others, with her best tactic being sweet drinks hiding bitter shocks. While I don’t practice the same, I do make sweeter teas for students who wish to stay behind for tutoring. I prefer for my poison to come from my words, figuratively really.
I would never poison a pawn, after all.
When I turn back to rebuke the Coatl, he’s already leaving the hall. He pauses for a moment, only to tell me his door is always open, then begins to leave again. I believe he’s done when he glances back, then pauses once more. I don’t know what has caught his eye, and I don’t rightly care as I prepare to leave through another door, to my own little alcove of magical practice. Well, more like magical malpractice, but still, it’s mine and mine alone. I’m surprised when he gives me his parting words.
“You know, dear, you aren’t the only one to walk between the dark and the light.”
I look back at him, spotting a wistful look in Razael’s eyes as he just softly shakes his head, leaving. It seems as though I’ve reminded him of something, or perhaps someone. He doesn’t seem to realize I’ve noticed the change in him as he leaves my hall, likely going to check his aviary. He’s going to be giving a lesson on caring for the smaller birds’ feathers after all. It takes me a moment to catch the smile on my own face. This time, I cannot hide it. Why would I?
I finally found Razael’s weakness, after all.
I found his Xenophon.
Struggled to win a crown in the Crown Adventures during Brightshine 2022.
Bonus: Was given the crown in the end by the winner Silva.
Bee on 03/25/2021.
Ping Silvercats2 (Lair ID #537302) if bred
Three times. You broke the clan energy bar three times. All by going onto your page. Boi.
Boi you ain't a deity stop-
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