Blight

A traveller claiming to be an ancient god-like being that has crawled out of Wyrmwound. Blight has an abnormally large ego, claiming to be better and more powerful than other dragons in the clan, despite that many dragons believe his stories because of his many burn-like scars that he claims are from all the diseases that have burnt away his flesh in Wyrmwound. Blight always says that his real form is something that other dragons are unable to comprehend and because of that they see him as a mirror.


Chin up. Look straight.

The mansion where Blight lives is packed with his fans.

A mansion that I don’t deserve to have, the voice inside him snorts.

Blight forces a smile onto his face as the masses of dragons crowd around him, cheering.

“Mister Blight! It’s so nice to finally meet you, the great and powerful Mirror!” “Mister Blight! Can you answer a few questions for our daily post?” “Mister Blight!”

Journalists gush and shove their microphones unceremoniously into his face.

What are you doing? That’s no way to get an interview, he thinks with no small amount of disgust.

“Well, of course I wouldn’t mind! Would you peasants, ahem, I mean, dragons, like to hear about the tales of what’s truly in the Wyrmwound?”

“Yes, sir! That would be wonderful!” The cheers rise.

“Well, it was…”

The day seems to go on for hours and hours as Blight spins a perilous tale of how he escaped the Wyrmwound. Dragons around him listen attentively and stare at him with adoring eyes, never missing a single word that he says.

At long last, the crowds disperse, leaving an exhausted Blight behind. He put on one last smile and shouted after the leaving dragons. “Don’t forget, I’m always here for the dragons of the CrimsonSky Clan! Remember, I was sent to you by Fate herself!”


Seeing the last of the dragons leave, Blight drops his smile and a frown soon takes its place.

Dear Plaguebringer, what have I done?

Silence fills the air, snaking through the empty hall.

“Kendra,” Blight’s voice pierces through the silent atmosphere of the place he calls home. “I miss you every day.” He laughs bitterly. “I’m not myself anymore. What would you say, if you were here? Would you simply shake your head like old times, and tell me to cut it out? Or would you slap some sense into my ‘thick head’, as you would call it?” Blight stops to take a breath. With a startle, his vision becomes misty and fogged with moisture.

I’m crying. What would the public do if they saw me now?

“And that’s when you would hug me, warm and tight. You-you’d reassure me that no one would ever care, that I should just be myself.” Blight swipes at his eyes as he chokes out, emotion seeping into his voice. This time, it’s genuine.

“Guess what? I’m the exact opposite of who you’d want me to be. I’m just hiding, hiding away.”

Blight sniffles as tears streak down his marred face. Then, his face hardens and there’s no trace of him ever crying.

It doesn’t matter, what I think.

I just have to carry on, until my cover is blown. Until then, who cares?

He flies into another room, just one of a hundred more in his mansion.

Chin up. Look straight.

Story by @Heatherstar ^^


Art by @Verdes!