Neri

5th Gen Ignomi
Ignis (#666) > Marduk > Dismas > Zerah > Me
Naomi > Willow > Dismas > Zerah > Me



"He's an odd one, y'know."

The fiery gaoler paused, looking at his dripping companion. The watch had been increased since the last incident with the strange imperial, dragging in gaolers who weren't usually keepers or overseers to watch over the quiet pale dragon. Of course Xevras still stopped to check the crystal bars, now reinforced with warding runes, but there were never to be less than two gaolers at this station at all times. There had been mixed reactions, but it seemed the duo at the door tonight were happy to have company aside from the shade drake and his stories. Tonight had been quiet, though. There was a festival, after all, and so many scholars adored the Lightweaver as much as they did the Arcanist here. It felt like they were being left out, in a way.

"How so, Lodel?" His fellow keeper of the night shifted in his furs, eyeing the small window allotted to them to check on their prisoner. He was still there, of course, still curled up in his cell. He seemed to be sleeping, but the two knew better. They'd seen those eyes staring at them the last time they looked, like twin lights in the dark of the cell. The purple gaoler, Lodel, seemed more nervous than usual, his eyes flicking over the shadows in the cell like they were alive before speaking up.

"Just... think about it. He was a scholar, respected, loved by his students. He saved dragons before, from Naomis, Ignis-borne, and other infernal lines. Honestly, his whole... rivalry? That it? Whatever it is, the thing with Razael and the other Grand Scholars seems more like some fancy game, right?" His companion listened, his attention turned almost entirely on Lodel. What he said was true. He was a powerful mage, this one. He'd somehow brought stone to life, not just once, but three entire times. Two of those instances were still keeping their distance, at least for now, and their "mother" was simply tending to his lecture hall in his absence. Two of the grown students in advanced courses had been drawn from the brink of death with his guidance, even if they seemed to be a little different for it. Every time someone volatile broke free, he'd been there to stop them, weaving threads of magic like a fine tapestry to ensnare all who meant ill of the students in the Divided Spire.

"Yeah, so? How's that odd? He taught them. They were followers for him. Nothing more. That's the thing with the Shade, right? Just, all-consuming power. He was just good at using them all." That's how it had felt to him, at least. After what had happened. After all, from what he'd heard from some of the Grand Scholars, he seemed to see the drakes of Sailuma as pawns. When he fought others, it was cold and calculated. When he sparred with one of his former partners, they'd both leave with new scars to remember the other by. Besides, the gashes left on his flank said enough to the gaoler. Pitch, the shade itself, running thick in his veins. He was just a power-hungry drake who'd managed to harness the accursed shade to the point he could twist the threads of fate itself if he wished. His partner frowned, then shook his head.

"Well yeah, at first. But didn't you see him at the end? There's a fire in him. Lot like what I see in you sometimes, y'know? Free-spirited, sure, but with how long he's been at it, don't you think he could grow to care? Just a little? And if so..." Lodel fell silent at that, staring at his fellow gaoler. The end was unspoken. Of course it was. A gaoler, wondering why a shade-ridden being would care about their pawns? Why he'd attack a beloved mirror to the Grand Scholars? It was blasphemy, in a way. And yet, neither dared to deny it was valid. Why had the imperial gone after the mirror? Why had he turned on an assistant who was loved by many? Especially when he'd gone and protected those who cared about the mirror from others who had, at least at first, seemed innocent enough.

"Have I ever been wrong before?"

The two gaolers jumped, looking back at the cell. They froze when they saw the imperial, staring them down like a trapped featherback. No, not like that. Like a king held in his own dungeon. He was no longer laying on the ground in his cell, either. No, he was standing tall, proud, and clearly waiting for an answer from the two. They were quiet as he looked between them, then continued.

"I tried to say it before, and I will continue to say it until the light leaves my eyes. That mirror isn't what he seems. Ask the descendants of Willow. Look into their history. Listen to the winds of change and know he did not fall far from the tree. He may not know it, but he's a monster, through and through." The two gaolers looked as if they'd be disgusted by such a statement, until they noticed something else.

They shouldn't be able to see so much of the imperial through the window.

They shouldn't even be able to see so much of his cell.

They opened their mouths to cry out, only for the door to slam in their faces. They didn't know when they'd stepped inside the cell itself. They didn't even remember moving from their post. But they did know one thing for certain, as the imperial turned away to walk down the hall.

Once again, Zerah had escaped. And this time, they swore they could see someone by his side.



"So why are you here?"

The wildclaw sighed to themselves, shaking their head. They'd figured this one, this Zerah, was difficult in some ways, but to be so commanding of them! They clicked their tongue, earning a rather offended glare from the imperial in his finery. They shifted their satchel, a faint clicking sound emanating from the leather. It seemed, just like last time, his companion had brought some odd eggshells.

"You know why I'm here, little prince. The question is, do you know why you're here? Walking the halls, finding little asides, desperately clawing at freedom?" The imperial looks annoyed at that, wrinkling his snout at the wildclaw. They'd been asking that for months now, as the gaolers got distracted by each other while they watched the halls. This one, who waltzed into his cell time and again without their notice, had whispered it from the shadows each night, woken him each morning with the same thing. He needed an answer, they said. He needed to know if he ever wanted to truly escape. He frowned as he thought, then let out his own sigh.

"I listened to my emotions. Caught a feeling of right and wrong and just... let it take me along for the ride. What, is that it? I need to not listen to them? Because those emotions are what made this work last time-" He let out a sharp whine when one of those wings slammed into his side. For one taking the form of a wildclaw, this one was strong. He stumbled a bit, glowering at the one called Paimon as they clicked their tongue again.

"No, you aren't looking deep enough. Think." The imperial scrambled when they opened the satchel, took one of the stone shells, and tossed it his way. They were walking still! They could be spotted! Didn't they need to find someplace to hide away?! He almost dropped it, especially with how smooth it was, when their wing caught his cheek. "And don't let yourself be distracted by your surroundings! That'll only make all of my work be in vain."

He looked down at what he now saw was a metallic replica of an arcane egg, frowning. This wasn't his original mentor. This was someone new, with new methods of teaching. He had to adapt. If that meant trying this feat of the soul while walking, so be it. He focused as best he could, watching the thread begin to form as he mulled the question over. Why was he imprisoned? Why was he here?

"Because I used them. Students, teachers, civilians. All of them were pawns to me when it came to my plans." He thought that might be it, ready to cut the thread when it tightened around the shell. He winced when he heard the metal creak before ripping apart, like a squashed gourd. Once again, the wildclaw let out that annoying click of the tongue.

"No. You did that, and they knew it back when it was true. They didn't shove you in a cell then. You were free to do as you wished. Try again." The imperial sneered at them, only to feel his glare soften at the sight of them. Another thread of thought had begun to form, but it quickly crushed the second shell as his thoughts wandered to this second mentor. Who were they? Why were they helping him? The other had told him why she was lending her knowledge to his cause. What did this one have to gain? Another annoyed click, another smack of the wing. "Focus." He shook his head again, turning to the third shell shoved roughly into his arms.

"... Because I changed." He watched the thread form, shifting and twisting around the metal shell as he continued. "I started out cold, and they expected as such from me. But then I helped others, and I was no longer cold to them. So this... would be a shock." He thought he had it, but then the thread added an extra loop, knotted itself, and tightened until the shell was cut in two. He looked confused as the wildclaw sighed, taking the two halves and exchanging them for another shell.

"Not quite there, little heir. Yes, it's a shock to them, but why? They know lies when they see them. How could they be shocked? Why would they be shocked by what you did?" The imperial frowns at that, stopping in his tracks as a thought occurs. A question. Something he should've asked. His new mentor almost looks annoyed, but keeps their mouth shut when they see it. A spark, a flame in his eyes. The light of understanding. He knew what he needed to know. Now, did he know what to do with it? They watched the thread weave around one shell, then easily snake around the last one they put in his arms. Even as they heard the approaching gaolers, likely alerted by the absence from the shift change, they waited, staring intently at the imperial.

"What is the answer, Zerah? Why are you here?" Why was he in a cell, when he had the strength to break free long ago? Why was he trapped, like some cornered beast? Why was he letting himself be held in such a way? Why let them strip him of his titles, his job, his very passion? Why let them drag his name through the mud? Why? Why was he here? As the gaolers drew close enough to hear, he finally spoke.

"Because I didn't lie. I did care. I cared about them. My students, my kin, the scholars who taught by my side. I cared about those hours spent snapping at Razael, making his feathers ruffle like it was some game. I cared about the Ophaniel, putting their lives on the line to keep some cursed dogs from haunting the dreams of others. I cared when my students came to me with troubles from other scholars, worries that held them back."

The threads settled, resting around the two arcaneflight shells in a faint rose gold color. He looked up to his second mentor, now standing behind a small group of gaolers who didn't even seem to see them. But he could. He saw them as they stepped back with a smile, an approving nod. He accepted his fate at that, as the fireworks flashed outside during the Lightbringer's festival. He would not join the festivities tonight, nor would he see such a display again. Not when the mirror still held those he cared for captive.

"I cared for them, and I still do."

The gaolers jumped back as the metal shifted, not hatching like the one from before, but changing into two different forms. One was like the light itself, pale like a sunset on a set of clouds. The other was darker, with patches of light cracking through what they thought to be patches of shade itself. As the two young ones looked up at the guards, the imperial glared at them, drawing the remnants of his silks around the two. Finally, one of the gaolers at the front spoke up, her eyes locked on what could only be hatchlings.

"What are those, Zerah?" They could feel the shade, just as they did in every modern dragon. They could see it on his flank, and they knew these two were his doing. They had to be. They must've been shade-ridden, like he was, right? But they were hatchlings! They hadn't even been alive for more than a moment! How could they exist? What were they? A threat? A strange thing he'd leave behind to haunt their halls until the end of time? The imperial couldn't help but chuckle at that, making the rest step back.

"You don't see? They're me, Gerda. My memories, good and bad. The laughter, the pain. The fire that drives me, as it does every dragon."

His little candle, and his little ember. They were his, and they'd never leave his side. Not until he'd done what he had to do.

In the end, he agreed to return to his cell, but only as long as the little ones accompanied him. The gaolers didn't have the courage to say no to that, gathering bedding and food for the new imperials. It mattered little, in the end. They were only hatchlings, after all. It wasn't like they could do much of anything to help the imperial truly escape.

Gerda was going to make sure the others knew about this, however. After all, stories of creating life like this were only seen among tales of the Eleven. It had to be the shade. It had to be something dark, twisted, and wrong. And yet... She couldn't help but wonder why this monster would make children out of metal, especially after what he'd done to Baruch. And if he truly was consumed by the shade, running though his very veins... why did his magic manifest in the form of threads of light?

What was he, really?

Dividers by Serpy/Natron
Lore by ClockworkEclipse (#125046)