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fandomweekly2017-02-27 07:46 pm
craftings) wrote in fandomweekly2017-02-27 07:46 pm
Entry tags:
[#034] On Wings of Blades (Original)
Theme Prompt: #034 - Signs and Portents
Title: On Wings of Blades
Fandom: Original
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 910
Summary: Zenov'ren and Xyth'rin have discovered the truth about the missing Blue Dragon, Vathrek, in Hyeldin; and it comes at a great cost.
NO!!
That word alone in his mind was enough to send him running. The stone hallway underneath the mausoleum is dimly lit, torches granting light and casting shadows at anything that moves. They'd found this secret passageway after exploring Vathrek's home, and Xyth'rin had been taken ahead of him in an effort to cover more space. But now, the sound of her voice in his head made him drop everything and simply bolt to where they had taken her, eyes searching for where she's gone. His guides into the dragon's home had yelled out in surprise and anger, trying to rush after him, but he had barreled them aside, practically diving down the stairs instead. Normally he would grab a torch and take his time to explore, but Xyth'rin's panicked voice sticks in his head, and he runs headlong towards an unknown destination.
"Xyth!" He shouts into the darkness, angry at himself for letting her be guided by the shamans of Hyeldin and away from him. "Xyth!!"
She doesn't answer him verbally, but his head fills with so many emotions at once he almost loses his balance. Kavas... kavas kavas kavas kavas kavas kavas-!! She's panicking, repeating herself to try and make whatever this is not seem real, as if she were in a nightmare. That whatever she's seeing isn't there, and that her brother is going to save her.
But as soon as it comes, it disappears, and Zen knows something is truly wrong. The next word, spoken in a different tone, proves it.
Tradoch'ten. Said with malice and amusement. Die.
He's never heard Xyth use that word. Never heard her voice become so unhinged or dangerous in nature that all his bones suddenly grow cold with a very familiar fear. One that he hasn't felt in years, mind trying not to immediately panic and nearly bolt down the hallway faster. He has to get to her, has to speak with her, let her know she's safe, that he's here for her, he can't let her think she's being-
Out of nowhere, his entire body erupts into cuts, and Zenov'ren screams in agony. The pain is overwhelming and crippling all at once. The fear of what's happening fully manifests itself, and he knows what's happening. Knows what is going to happen. He has to stop her. Has to stop what will come if no one else can. Zen manages to stabilize himself enough to push forward, leaning against a wall as support, feeling a throbbing pain begin to ebb in the back of his head.
If this means what he thinks it does-
The answer comes seconds later when he arrives in the main underground room. There's corpses everywhere. Blood streaks the walls. And standing in the middle of it all is his sister, in formal attire he doesn't recognize. She hums softly, ignoring him, a finger gently brushing along the books laying open across the altar.
"On wings of blades we used to fly,
The days when war felled kings
Now our gods have all gone blind,
What use are they to empty praise?
So we take their blood and their bone,
And carve new gods; hailed to see
No dragon queen to rule us now
Our truth is immortality."
A blood ritual at the heart of a dragon's home. He sinks to his knees, knowing fully well what this all means. As her older brother, as her sibling, he fears not only for her sake, but for all of Vale's. He has to try and reach her, has to see if she can still hear him-
Zenov'ren does the only thing that he can think of; try to speak with her. "V'ranok sulchem aavet-"
"Don't speak to me in that horrid language." She doesn't look at him, but the words are harsh, biting. It surprises him, mouth still open to form the next word, voice choking a little in his throat.
"Xyth-"
His sister stops, breathing out, and her head turns to him immediately, eyes narrowing. "No. My name is Ynara. She was weak. Weak enough to allow herself to be betrayed." His heart sinks at the confirmation, that the creature in front of him is his sister, and yet not. This is the inner dragon she never had the time to confront, or control. A burden that all Chosen must carry and also know how to fight, or else lose who they are to the dragon magic that will inevitably consume them.
Ynara circles him slowly, like a predator watching its crippled prey. He drops his head and resigns himself on the floor, too weak to rise again. "Zenov'ren, Chosen of the Black. Child of the Storms, of Ilthiliya." She speaks crystal clear, each word in the native tongue she'd forgotten after being abandoned because she was the White Dragon's Chosen. Zen feels his chin being lifted by hands that cup them too gently, nails too long and sharp to be a human's. Her face is close to his, her pupils red and fierce and a wicked smile crossing her lips.
This isn't his sister. This is his sister.
She smiles, voice like a whisper as her nails dig deeper into his skin. "Give. Me. My. Prince."
Title: On Wings of Blades
Fandom: Original
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 910
Summary: Zenov'ren and Xyth'rin have discovered the truth about the missing Blue Dragon, Vathrek, in Hyeldin; and it comes at a great cost.
NO!!
That word alone in his mind was enough to send him running. The stone hallway underneath the mausoleum is dimly lit, torches granting light and casting shadows at anything that moves. They'd found this secret passageway after exploring Vathrek's home, and Xyth'rin had been taken ahead of him in an effort to cover more space. But now, the sound of her voice in his head made him drop everything and simply bolt to where they had taken her, eyes searching for where she's gone. His guides into the dragon's home had yelled out in surprise and anger, trying to rush after him, but he had barreled them aside, practically diving down the stairs instead. Normally he would grab a torch and take his time to explore, but Xyth'rin's panicked voice sticks in his head, and he runs headlong towards an unknown destination.
"Xyth!" He shouts into the darkness, angry at himself for letting her be guided by the shamans of Hyeldin and away from him. "Xyth!!"
She doesn't answer him verbally, but his head fills with so many emotions at once he almost loses his balance. Kavas... kavas kavas kavas kavas kavas kavas-!! She's panicking, repeating herself to try and make whatever this is not seem real, as if she were in a nightmare. That whatever she's seeing isn't there, and that her brother is going to save her.
But as soon as it comes, it disappears, and Zen knows something is truly wrong. The next word, spoken in a different tone, proves it.
Tradoch'ten. Said with malice and amusement. Die.
He's never heard Xyth use that word. Never heard her voice become so unhinged or dangerous in nature that all his bones suddenly grow cold with a very familiar fear. One that he hasn't felt in years, mind trying not to immediately panic and nearly bolt down the hallway faster. He has to get to her, has to speak with her, let her know she's safe, that he's here for her, he can't let her think she's being-
Out of nowhere, his entire body erupts into cuts, and Zenov'ren screams in agony. The pain is overwhelming and crippling all at once. The fear of what's happening fully manifests itself, and he knows what's happening. Knows what is going to happen. He has to stop her. Has to stop what will come if no one else can. Zen manages to stabilize himself enough to push forward, leaning against a wall as support, feeling a throbbing pain begin to ebb in the back of his head.
If this means what he thinks it does-
The answer comes seconds later when he arrives in the main underground room. There's corpses everywhere. Blood streaks the walls. And standing in the middle of it all is his sister, in formal attire he doesn't recognize. She hums softly, ignoring him, a finger gently brushing along the books laying open across the altar.
"On wings of blades we used to fly,
The days when war felled kings
Now our gods have all gone blind,
What use are they to empty praise?
So we take their blood and their bone,
And carve new gods; hailed to see
No dragon queen to rule us now
Our truth is immortality."
A blood ritual at the heart of a dragon's home. He sinks to his knees, knowing fully well what this all means. As her older brother, as her sibling, he fears not only for her sake, but for all of Vale's. He has to try and reach her, has to see if she can still hear him-
Zenov'ren does the only thing that he can think of; try to speak with her. "V'ranok sulchem aavet-"
"Don't speak to me in that horrid language." She doesn't look at him, but the words are harsh, biting. It surprises him, mouth still open to form the next word, voice choking a little in his throat.
"Xyth-"
His sister stops, breathing out, and her head turns to him immediately, eyes narrowing. "No. My name is Ynara. She was weak. Weak enough to allow herself to be betrayed." His heart sinks at the confirmation, that the creature in front of him is his sister, and yet not. This is the inner dragon she never had the time to confront, or control. A burden that all Chosen must carry and also know how to fight, or else lose who they are to the dragon magic that will inevitably consume them.
Ynara circles him slowly, like a predator watching its crippled prey. He drops his head and resigns himself on the floor, too weak to rise again. "Zenov'ren, Chosen of the Black. Child of the Storms, of Ilthiliya." She speaks crystal clear, each word in the native tongue she'd forgotten after being abandoned because she was the White Dragon's Chosen. Zen feels his chin being lifted by hands that cup them too gently, nails too long and sharp to be a human's. Her face is close to his, her pupils red and fierce and a wicked smile crossing her lips.
This isn't his sister. This is his sister.
She smiles, voice like a whisper as her nails dig deeper into his skin. "Give. Me. My. Prince."
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