"Who?" Rykirus whispered in horror, swallowing dryly, "Who could do this?"
Nyko grimaced, "This is the fate of all slain dragons," he said, softly, "Just, some humans... dislike the dragon race and, well, let's just say it's painful to experience when you're alive."
Rage stirred in his gut, but there was also shame and guilt. During the time he spent training and preparing to fight, there were others actually fighting, giving their lives, their very souls, to protect their kin. He walked with trembling steps toward the dragon. As he got closer, his steps faltered. This was no dragon, it was a drake, its small body laying lifeless on the ground, and he suddenly had a thought. His mother... he saw the human had his mother's teeth and scales. And suddenly, his vision blurred, mind swapping out the dead drake for his mother's decaying corpse.
Rykirus felt sick, eyes glued onto the jagged dagger tattoo etched onto the side of the drake's snout. A NightBlade. This, this one, he was Rykirus's responsibility! Rykirus was king, he should have been there to protect his own! But no, he was here, just messing around! His eyes hardened, mind made up.
He raised a claw, letting his dark magic condense into a tight ball, before lowering it slowly towards his clanmate's corpse.
"What're you doing?" Rykirus startled slightly, he forgot he wasn't the only one here. He glanced at Nyko, eyes narrowed. Nyko had stayed back in respect, arms crossed as he observed the young drake in front of him.
"I'm raising him," he hissed, turning back to the task at hand, putting his claw onto the body and closing his eyes, "I can feel his last moments, the gut-wrenching fear and the all-consuming pain that enveloped him. I can feel the hate and desire for revenge in his pain-hazed mind, the overwhelming desire to sink his talons in and feel the pulsing of their heart in his blood-covered claw," he glanced sadly at the body, sorrow and grief covering every inch of his face, "But, his most powerful emotion, the sudden realization, that he's going to die, and the sheer relief that followed it, the desperate longing for the release of death. That, no one, especially that young, should have to experience it. I'll give him a second chance, to change everything."
"Are you sure?" he asked, quick to justify himself when Rykirus turned rage-filled eyes his way, "I mean, if he already went through it once, would it be cruel to pull him back into the world that caused him so much pain?"
Nyko's question was valid when he thought about it, but still, "I believe that he would enjoy this second chance, he could right his wrongs and live his life to the fullest," his eyes turned steely and hard, "besides, he has important information from what I could get a read on. It's his duty as a soldier of NightBlade to follow his king's command, in life, and to death and beyond."
"Very well," Nyko murmured, stepping back, "I can't stop you, do what you will."
Rykirus gazed at the body for what felt like millennia, before he let his magic loose and dark green tendrils of raw power ran down his body, dark smoke, like storm clouds, enveloped him, swirling dangerously.
When everything stopped, the cloud of smoke lifted and the tendrils retreated, they could see the effects. A slowly stirring drake, with forest-green scales swiftly regrowing, matter condensing into violet colored eyes, teeth and claws regenerating slowly. Rykirus winced slightly at the snap of bones as his oddly bent wings righted themselves, and his injuries were healed, looking as if they were stitching together on their own.
The drake turned bewildered eyes toward the duo, "I-I'm dead, right?"
Rykirus stepped forward, snapping out of his internal debate, "No, I resurrected you, what's your name?" he asked projecting confidence and authority.
The forest-green drake instantly snapped to attention at the commanding voice, not even death affecting his years of ingrained training, "I am Fiero Sir," he barked loudly. Here he hesitated, confusion shrouding his features, "Resurrected?" he questioned, looking uncomfortable.
Rykirus nodded, "Yes, but that is a conversation for another day. Your rank?" he prompted, tilting his head in a silent request.
Violet eyes considered him before he gave a curt nod, "Right," he shifted, "Fiero, captain of squad 3 in the first division," he cleared his throat, eyes darting around uncertainly, "Son of Vyrix, the general of NightBlade."